Meir Shalev (1948–2023)

The writer is good with words and is witty. However, I "assume" the story is supposed to be cute and nostalgic. I found it sad. A grandmother is so consumed by cleanliness that her family has to eat on the porch instead of the dining room, so they don't dirty it. There are rooms in the house, such as the library and the bathroom, they are not permitted to enter. On the door knob of each door is a rag, in case somebody needs to enter, they need to clean the door knob when they leave the room. show more Her daughter can not get married in the backyard because her mother is afraid family will dirty the house. I'd say the grandmother has a mental illness; and that is not cute. I did get to see snippets of life in a kibbutz. 224 pages 3 stars show less

I thought I knew the narratives of the Hebrew Bible fairly well, but Shalev surprised me with his insight. Part of this is from his close reading of the text and attention to detail, part of it is his own sense of characterisation borne of his own experience as a novelist. A third ingredient, perhaps most indispensable, is that he does not approach the text or its characters as "holy". This gives him license to question the actions and motives of Abraham, Samuel and Elijah, while show more rehabilitating some others. I enjoyed this book more than I expected I would and recommend it highly. A very good read. show less

“I know enough about farming to know that the best fictions of all grow from the earth of reality.”

This is a memoir by Israeli author Meir Shalev who was born in 1948 on Nahalal, Israel’s first moshav. The book is translated from Hebrew by Evan Fallenberg. The moshav movement was a cooperative agricultural community of individual farms started by the Zionists as part of the Second Aliyah (1904-1914 Jewish emigration to Palestine, largely from Russia). The moshavim were more show more family-based than kibbutz. The first moshav was established in Nahalal in Jezreel valley where this story takes place. Grandma Tonia, the central character in the story, arrived in 1923, as part of the Third Aliyah. She was born in Rokitno, Ukraine in the 1900s and married Grandpa Aharon after she arrived in Palestine.

The story revolves around the feisty and dirt-obsessed Grandma Tonia and later her mysterious American vacuum cleaner. Tonia has a difficult life, declaring war as she does on the dirt in Palestine. She refuses anyone admittance through her front door, makes them sit on the porch and only the favoured few gain admittance through the back door. The family are made to shower out by the cows’ barn and conduct as much of their daily lives outside as possible. Tonia seems ill-matched with Grandpa Aharon, who seems far more socialist and zionist than she is, and he is clearly unsuited for the farming life he has chosen. Grandpa Aharon and the moshavniks eschew all things frivolous. In particular he disapproves of his brother Uncle Yeshayahu, the traitor who has committed the unpardonable crime of moving to America, the land of temptation and hedonism. Uncle Yeshayahu eventually sends Grandma Tonia a monstrous shiny new vacuum cleaner as a grandiose statement of superiority and possibly revenge. Initially Grandma is captivated by the “svieeperrr,” her new ally in the war against dirt, and her grandson Meir is determined to discover the fate of the mythical appliance that has become the stuff of family legends, rumoured to be imprisoned in Grandma’s spare room. This is a humorous look at family life, and sheds light into the hardship of moshavnik life and the culture in Palestine at the time. The disappointing thing to me was that despite Grandma Tonia being “a character” I was unable to really warm to her. Other than her fanatical approach to cleaning, hard work, and the tyranny with which she enforced her regimen on the family, the only supposedly endearing traits mentioned were her few favourite phrases and mispronunciations. She seemed to have a soft spot for Meir’s girlfriends but this was the only chink revealed in her armour. I also found the very conscious narration with the author’s constant worries about misrepresenting another family member’s version of events distracted me from enjoying the story more. show less

Having read Shalev's beautiful novel, The Blue Mountain, I was eager to see if A Pigeon and a Boy was as gorgeously rendered as that one was. I have to say that I still find the other more enticing but this has an appealing dream-like cast to it. Two different stories that converge in the narrative, the story opens with a rich American, former member of the Palmach telling of the death of a boy and his symbolic release of a final homing pigeon as he dies in battle to the other tour members show more and Yair, their Israeli tour guide. From this point onward, the narrative splits into the stories of Yair's life and that of Baby, the young homing pigeon handler who died so many years ago in the fighting. But as the stories diverge, so they must, in the end, converge again. Both stories center on love and its loss: man-woman, mother-son, and friend-friend. Shalev draws Israel before Independence with minute strokes, describing the place and everything in it with a detailed richness that sometimes threatens to overwhelm the reader. His characters are lost and found again in love drawing understanding sympathies from the reader. The tragedies and betrayals, both physical and emotional, that play out in the novel are piercing and yet there is still ultimately a redemptive feel to the novel as a whole: the past melts seamlessly into the present and the present can be made right. I found it initially hard to sink into the book fully but once I made that effort, I was rewarded by a stunning book; one that will stay with me for a long time. show less